


Medicine

by Anonymous



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Second Person, first/real name usage, sapnap is mentally ill. up to you to guess what the mental illness is., vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-25
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:33:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29693679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: "Hey, really quick, actually, can you mute stream?"You nod, pressing your mute hotkey. Strike that, actually--youthinkyou hit it."Did you take your medicine? I can bring it up to you so you can take them."You sigh, tensing up from George's words. "I don't need them, it's fine."Clay scoffs, sighing soon after. "C'mon,Nick, you really need to take them. You know that."Stupidly,ridiculously, you hit your desk in a sudden urge of anger, glaring at Clay. "I don't fucking--" You start, voice dripping with frustration andhatred.George cuts you off. "Sapnap, you--you aren't muted."Realization sets in as you look at chat, who's spamming various things, mostly along the lines of 'not muted' and 'you take medicine?' and 'take your meds!'.Without another word, you end the stream, tears welling up in your eyes.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 232
Collections: Anonymous





	Medicine

**Author's Note:**

> **second person pov warning** in case you didnt read the tags or summary. 
> 
> ships are secondary here tbh. this is a vent fic. funnily enough it took days to finish because i haven't been taking my medicine

You lay in bed, sprawled out, phone in hand. You're scrolling through your timeline on Twitter, trying to fill the ever-growing void inside your chest with stupid memes and shitty political news, though nothing helps. You feel...bare.

You feel empty.

It's been a tough day for you. Between piles of work and the nagging feeling of not being good enough, you're exhausted. It's already one in the morning, and yet you haven't done much. You've barely ate or drank anything, much to the disdain of your body as it gently shakes, begging you for something, _anything_. While it's still a relatively rare occurrence that you put your body through this, it's been happening more and more lately. You don't have the energy to get something to eat.

You don't have energy, period. In fact, your energy is so low that you can't even bring yourself to go and take your medicine.

_Medicine._

You shiver at the thought. Although you've been regularly medicated for various things since you were a child, you haven't gotten over your complete and utter hatred for it, and while you _need_ your pills to function, you just can't take them.

There's always been a bit of anger in you at the fact you've had to take medicine for years and years, for over a decade. Countless arguments with your mother where you screamed and cried, begging her to let you stop taking them, promising that you could function without the pills. She always knew better than to let you stop taking them. Everyone around you knows that you need them, even the people you weren't super close to. There was the time where you hadn't taken them in a few days and you blew up at Wilbur, and the time where Puffy messaged you while you were in the middle of a depressive episode. Much to your chagrin, there was also the time where Eret had to try and calm you down during a full-blown mania. Nothing would and will ever get rid of the guilt from that situation. You apologized over and over and sent Eret gifts in the mail to make up for it, even though they repeatedly said it was alright. It wouldn't have been too bad, if it weren't for the fact you impulsively asked Eret if they wanted to fly out to Florida and go on a date. You didn't even have feelings for them; you just...said it because they're pretty.

You know that you need to get up and take your pills. It's been four days without them already, and you already feel yourself slipping back into your old ways. While the pills made you feel numb, they at least kept you stable, rather than let your mood swing from one extreme to the other.

An hour passes. 2 A.M. You still don't get up. You get a notification that Karl's doing an alt stream.

Another hour passes. 3 A.M. You get up and trudge over to your computer, barely having the energy for that.

Within a few minutes, you have CS:GO booted up and your stream ready to go. You hit live and broadcast to your alt viewers, not caring that Karl's still live.

It takes a solid ten minutes for your viewers to notice something's wrong. You're not the best CS player, of course, but your plays are absolute garbage, and you're barely talking. Normally, you get upset when you mess up, but right now, you don't even react. You just wait for the next round to start. You barely speak past quietly answering donations or thanking gifted subs. Chat passes by in a blur, between people genuinely concerned for you and people telling everyone to stop bothering you.

Things go like this for an hour before you hear a quiet knock at your door. You mute yourself.

"Come in?"

The door opens, and Clay, your boyfriend and housemate steps through.

"I'm live," you say, and he nods.

"I know. I was watching. You can unmute yourself, I'll just be in the background."

You run a hand through your hair before unmuting. "Sorry, chat, Dream came in. He's just...chilling, I guess."

Clay rolls his eyes at that, though you don't see. He makes himself comfortable on your bed, something that had become a common occurrence over the course of living with him. You'd found out that he likes sleeping in your bed more than he likes sleeping in his own, not that you were complaining. The company at night was nice, whether you were cuddling or laid inches away from each other. Cuddling was much more common, though.

The two of you chat for a little while before you hear a noise over Discord, specifically the ringing noise. You tab out and check who's calling you, smiling a little when you see that it's George, your other boyfriend. "I'm live," are the first words you say, and George hums in acknowledgement.

"Can I come hang with you guys?" he asks, and Clay laughs. This happened often--George would call for permission before even daring to step foot in your room or Clay's room, even after being told repeatedly that it was okay. You assume it's just because George didn't like it when either of you came into his room unannounced for non-emergencies.

Clay speaks up before you get the chance to. "Of course. Come join the club."

You hear a few noises over the call.

"Hey, really quick, actually, can you mute stream?"

You nod, pressing your mute hotkey. Strike that, actually--you _think_ you hit it.

"Did you take your medicine? I can bring it up to you so you can take them."

You sigh, tensing up from George's words. "I don't need them, it's fine."

Clay scoffs, sighing soon after. "C'mon, _Nick_ , you really need to take them. You know that."

Stupidly, _ridiculously_ , you hit your desk in a sudden urge of anger, glaring at Clay. "I don't fucking--" You start, voice dripping with frustration and _hatred_.

George cuts you off. "Sapnap, you--you aren't muted."

Realization sets in as you look at chat, who's spamming various things, mostly along the lines of 'not muted' and 'you take medicine?' and 'take your meds!'. 

Without another word, you end the stream, tears welling up in your eyes.

The room goes silent save for your quiet, shaking sobs, slumped against your desk. Clay slowly approaches you and turns your chair around, pulling you into his arms, mumbling soft words into your hair. You distantly hear the sound of the door opening and closing, a pill bottle rattling, and the squeak of the mattress as Clay pulls you onto the bed with George. 

None of you speak properly for a while. Clay continues to mumble, words turning into pointless rambles as you relax, keeping your mind off of everything. George cuddles up to you, an oddly rare occurrence, nuzzling his face against your neck.

Things feel peaceful.

Your boyfriends, your perfect, supportive boyfriends, are like the light at the end of the tunnel, the hand of an angel pulling you to salvation. Even when things are wrong, they make sure to keep you afloat. You adore them more than anything in this world, and you know they feel the same about you.

George eventually hands you your medicine, a pleading look on his face, and with a shaky hand you take them and get three pills out. Clay hands you a glass of ice water with a smile. As you take them, George strokes your hair, and Clay wraps his arms around you from behind.

Medicine might be a struggle, but loving them isn't.


End file.
